


Roche Limit

by Rebecca_Leyla



Category: Heaven Will Be Mine (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, Love is (self-)destructive, Not a happy story for happy people, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26941144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebecca_Leyla/pseuds/Rebecca_Leyla
Summary: “But in practice, wrecking a Ship-Self until both the pilot and the ship give up is indistinguishable. Because you can become so broken continuing is impossible. Even if they can’t kill you, you can be changed.”“You think you can do that to me? Or is that what you want to have happen to you?”“I have. To people who have much more fun with this than you do.”
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Roche Limit

Ares is a backwater to the War in Heaven. Once the centerpiece of Cradle's Graces’ dreams of humanity’s future in space, Ares is now a broken shell, and the focus of the war between Cradle’s Graces and Memorial Foundation has moved to the outer planets. Only the outcast, the penitent, and the unceasing dreamers remain here to fight, on this world too cold and dry to support real life. It is at once hopelessly boring and hopelessly tragic, for all those on either side.

Phaethon wouldn’t be able to tell you _why_ she is here on Ares. Despite being an excellent sniper, she performed so poorly on the frontlines that Memorial Foundation’s command questioned her commitment to the core mission of returning the Children of Space home to earth. However, her continued loyalty and her skill makes them unwilling to discard her entirely.

So she serves Memorial Foundation on Ares, with little understanding of her sidelining and no expectations of her future role. Phaethon waits to be asked to advance to the next phase of her life, as she has always done.

Luna-Terra knows exactly why she is here on Ares. Among the first pilots to leave Memorial Foundation, she was one of the shining stars and great hopes of Cradle's Graces, their ace who would lead them to victory. And then she wasn’t. She became hated by Cradle's Graces for her betrayal, and remains distrusted by Memorial Foundation for her shifting loyalties. Luna-Terra is kept on Ares as a punishment, and to be prepared for the day that Memorial Foundation once again has need of their ace.

Depending on how she feels, Luna-Terra will either tell you that Ares is a waiting room for her judgement, or an imprisonment in a harsh, cold land. Regardless, it’s where she deserves to be.

They find themselves on opposite sides of a narrow plains on Ares, each hidden among the hills bordering it. They’ve been here before, not here on Ares, but here in the space of the narrative, on the same side and dueling for sport, not pride. Luna-Terra in her Mare Crisium, her test type Ship-Self with it’s continually-bleeding core wound, and Phaethon in the Hemera Chasma, a production model based on the Mare Crisium’s design and on paper its equal. They look through their sniper rifles and scan the hills, trying to spot each other.

“How many times have we done this before?” Luna-Terra asks over the radio.

“Fifteen, I think,” Phaethon answers.

“Are you sure it’s not sixteen?” Luna-Terra counters.

“Could be.”

Phaethon sees something gleam off in the opposing hills, but zooms in to find that whatever was there is gone now.

“I’m a little curious, why do you keep on asking to fight me?” Luna-Terra questions her. “It’s not like these matches are competitive anymore, you haven’t won since we were recent graduates of the Pilot Training Program. Which I’m not going to say is a failing of yours, it’s just that I’m The Ace, and you’re not.”

Phaethon smiles. “Because it is important that we continue to fight each other,” she answers.

“Important why?”

“Because it’s important to me, of course.”

Luna-Terra grins. “You solipsist.”

Phaethon laughs, and fires off three shots of solid light at where she thinks Luna-Terra is, but the Mare Crisium already moved before she pulled the trigger.

“You’ll need to be faster than that, but thanks for showing me exactly where you are,” Luna-Terra stage-whispers over the radio.

A bullet of solid light hits the Hemera Chasma’s left arm and passes through. Phaethon ducks behind cover and the other shots in the burst miss, and while she feels the ache in her arm, it won’t slow her down. It’s not really pain; it’s disorienting and distracting like real pain, but not the same sensation. The sensory information gives Phaethon a sort of thrill.

“Good shot, I was afraid you weren’t taking this seriously,” Phaethon compliments her.

“When a good friend like you asks, I’ll always take it seriously.”

Phaethon creeps out from her cover. She scans the hills again. “And I’m supposed to believe you don’t say that to all the girls?” she jokes.

“Nope, you’re one-of-a-kind.” 

Phaethon spots the Mare Crisium and fires off a burst of shots. Luna-Terra instantly responds with her own burst of solid light slugs from the Mare Crisium’s rifle. They both duck behind cover, having taken hits.

“How many of those landed on you?” Phaethon asks.

“Three. And you?”

“Four. I’d almost forgotten how much fun this is, it’s been a while.” Phaethon uses the Hemera Chasma’s gravity to start repairing the holes the Mare Crisium made in it. 

“You’ve always been willing to take a risk to try to get what you want,”says Luna-Terra.

“Not always.”

Phaethon dashes through the hills to another vantage point and lays out, searching the other side again. “It’s quite a coincidence that we both ended up on Ares on the same side at the same time after all this, isn’t it?”

“The universe runs on so much randomness put together that in the end it all seems like a certainty.”

“So maybe we’re fated to keep on doing this forever?” 

“It is looking less and less likely that there will be a forever to all of this,” Luna-Terra remarks. They both know the War in Heaven has escalated from an undeclared conflict between Memorial Foundation and Cradle's Graces, as four months ago Earth declared that there was no future for humanity in space, and everyone must come home.

“You say that like you’re unhappy about it,” Phaethon prods her. She spots the Mare Crisium in motion, and fires off a shot while tracking her, but a hill intervenes when she pulls the trigger, and she loses track of Luna-Terra.

“Aren’t you?” Luna-Terra has the Hemera Chasma in her sights.

“I’m just a nobody in this war, doing what I’m told. You’re Luna-Terra, who left Memorial Foundation with Mars and Pluto to stand against it, then came back. If you don’t want Memorial Foundation to succeed, why did you return?”

Luna-Terra pulls the trigger. “Hit,” she says.

The slug impacts the Hemera Chasma center-of-mass, and for a moment Phaethon is staggered.

“You’re not asking the right question,” Luna-Terra says. “Answer mine first, then try again.”

Phaethon pulls back slightly, and climbs to the top of a hill to get a different perspective. She spots the Mare Crisium running through the opposite hills, and tracks her,

“I’m used to not getting what I want,” Phaethon answers, and fires a burst of solid light, but only two shots hit, passing right through, and Luna-Terra takes cover.

Despite her vantage point, Phaethon isn’t seeing Luna-Terra at all. She knows the longer she stays up here, the more likely it becomes that Luna-Terra will snipe her, but she doesn’t want to move. Phaethon wants to put the next choice in Luna-Terra’s hands. By making herself vulnerable, she will draw Luna-Terra out into the open.

A slug buries itself in Phaethon’s shoulder. It sets off a chain reaction of nerves in her arm and her body shouts at her, but to her it’s a good sort of signal, telling her she’s been noticed, and Luna-Terra has given away her hiding spot. She fires a burst that misses badly but sends the Mare Crisium running before it can shoot any more.

“That’s your question answered, My turn.” She shoots a few more rounds at Luna-Terra, one of which hits, and the Mare Crisium stumbles and for a moment Luna-Terra isn’t perfect. “How do you feel about being stuck here on Ares?”

“That’s not the same question you asked before, but I’ll answer it. This planet has no future, so we are all trapped here in an unchanging present. Or an unchanging future. It’s what I deserve.” The Mare Crisium finds some cover.

“And how do you feel about fighting me once again?” Phaethon asks.

“I’m enjoying it.” The Mare Crisium steps out from cover. Phaethon fires center of mass, but misses, and Luna-Terra fires back, hitting the Hemera Chasma in it’s right hand. Phaethon’s hand feels crackly and hot. Unable to aim and fire cleanly, Phaethon crawls back off of the hilltop.

“Even though you know you’ll win?” Phaethon wills the gravity engine to knit back together the robotics of the Hemera Chasma’s hand. She’s not ready to give up the fight yet.

“Even though I _suspect_ I’ll win.” Luna-Terra waits to see if Phaethon will follow that up before asking her own question. “Phaethon, why is fighting me so important to you?”

Phaethon feels goose-bumps all over her body. Even though she can, she doesn’t stop her body’s autonomic reaction. She savors the feeling of the shiver that runs through her.

“Because Luna-Terra, you are the best. You shine the brightest of all of us from the first-generation of pilots, and I want to see that light up close.” Phaethon comes out from cover and spots the Mare Crisium running to hide behind a hill. She fires a few rounds at the Ship-Self. Phaethon starts sprinting towards another vantage point.

“I’m just a pilot, though.” Luna-Terra fires a shot at the Hemera Chasma at a moment that she has a clear line-of-fire, but misses.

Phaethon nears the point she had in mind. She waits. 

“You’re having fun too, right?” Luna-Terra asks.

“Yes.”

Phaethon comes out from behind cover on to the natural sniper perch. 

“Even though you have mostly just been shot by me? You know the goal is to shoot me, not get shot by me, right?” Luna-Terra jokes. Phaethon can almost feel her smirk over the radio.

Phaethon spots the Luna-Terra’s Ship-Self in her sniper scope. She pulls the trigger, and a shot hits it center-of-mass. The Mare Crisium is forced to run for cover, almost stumbling as it goes. “No, what’s important is that you keep on shooting me, and I keep on shooting you back.”

The Mare Crisium gets back behind cover. Luna-Terra grins. “You have some strange priorities.”

“Maybe you don’t understand my priorities.” 

An idea comes to Phaethon, and on impulse she decides to run with it. 

There is a lull in the fight, neither of the pilots talking. Phaethon builds up the resolve to tell her idea, while Luna-Terra starts to worry about what Phaethon will do next. It’s late afternoon, and long shadows begin to creep along the plains.

Phaethon goes for it. “Luna-Terra, I have a fun idea. Why don’t we ditch this cover and run-and-gun until we meet each other in the middle? Have it all out in the open.”

“I don’t know,” Luna-Terra stalls, “it seems like that would just end with you getting hurt.”

“Like that would be the worst thing that could happen.” Phaethon is off and running across the plains.

Luna-Terra watches the Hemera Chasm sprinting towards her, and contemplates what to do. A fight out on the plains would inevitably lead to an awful knife-fight. She doesn’t want that, so she sighs, and fires a shot to try to end the fight there.

Phaethon feels the solid light bullet hit the Hemera Chasma right in the head, and her feet come out from under her. She sees only ground before blacking out.

_Phaethon sits at a table eating her lunch, when a blond-haired girl sits down in front of her._

_“Hi, I’m Luna-Terra, we’re both students but I don’t believe we’ve met before.” She offers her hand._

_Phaethon shakes hands. “I’m Phaethon. I’ve heard a lot about you, how you pilot the first combat-operational Ship-Self. It’s nice to finally meet you.”_

_Phaethon and Luna-Terra are in a training sniper duel on the Moon. Phaethon is almost giving Luna-Terra as good as she gets._

_“Wow, you have some serious shooting skills,” Luna-Terra compliments her._

_“Thank you, I’m glad that I’m able to impress even the best.”_

_Phaethon and Luna-Terra have just finished a Ship-Self fight on a moon of Zeus._

_“That was a lot of fun, and you really showed me how good you’ve gotten at piloting. I’d say you won out there,”_

_“Thanks Luna-Terra.”_

_“You’re welcome. Oh, there’s Mars. I want you two to meet.”_

_Luna-Terra and Mars give each other a quick kiss hello, and Mars introduces herself. An ugly part of Phaethon’s mind feels jealousy._

_Luna-Terra and Phaethon prepare to enter their Ship-Selves. Before Luna-Terra begins her climb to the cockpit door, she turns and calls back to Phaethon._

_“This may be the last time we have one of these friendly fights. Existential Expansion and a lot of pilots are splitting off to form Cradle's Graces, to fight for humanity’s future in space. I’m going with them. From what I know about you, you were never the type to go directly against authority, so I’m guessing you won’t follow. If we see each other again, it will be as enemies.”_

_Phaethon greets Luna-Terra at an Ares spaceport. Luna-Terra walks off the shuttle with a downcast look. Phaeothon sees the scar on Luna-Terra’s face, still healing. They greet each other with an embrace._

_“I’m so sorry for what has happened. It’s good to have you back, Luna-Terra,” Phaethon says, trying to cheer her up._

_“Is it though?” Luna-Terra answers._

_“I missed you,” is all Phaethon can say in response._

Phaethon awakes with a fading headache to hear Luna-Terra calling her name.

“Phaethon, please answer.”

“I’m here,” Phaethon says into the radio. She has the Hemera Chasma stand up again.

“You were out for almost half-a-minute, I’m sorry for doing that, but I don’t want to continue this fight the way you want to. I’m calling this.”

“No, I’m fine.” Phaethon is telling the truth, the headache is gone, the bullet is out, and she’s already using her Ship-Self’s gravity to repair the Hemera Chasma’s head wound.

“You were shot in the head,” Luna-Terra says, incredulous. 

“No, _my Ship-Self_ was shot in the head. All I felt was some sympathetic feedback. I can take it.” Phaethon wears a wolfish grin.

“I don’t think you can win, and I don’t usually fight in open combat for fun,” Luna-Terra responds.

A pinpoint of anger begins to build in Phaethon’s mind. “So you’re just going to stop? I am still ready to go.”

“It’s not about you being ready—”

“Whatever you can dish out I can take. I’m a pilot, same as you!”

“Is this really your idea of a good time?”

“I am having _fun_ ,” Phaethon says. “Don’t you want to have fun?”

“You want to continue this, even if it leaves you completely wrecked?”

“I don’t think you are capable of that, I may not be a great pilot, but what I know is how to endure, and I want to see all of what you can do. I always have.”

There’s a pause before Luna-Terra responds. “Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

“Come out and fight me, you coward!” Phaethon shouts, only half-joking.

Luna-Terra sighs, and the Mare Crisium comes out onto the plains. Both Ship-Selves begin running in a weaving path towards each other, firing and dodging. They are both moving too fast to hit each other accurately, but there’s a mutual feeling of momentum building.

“Luna-Terra, what do you think of me, both as a pilot and a friend?” Phaethon just misses the head of the Mare Crisium with a solid light bullet.

“As a friend, I’m glad to know you. You’ve always been good for companionship. You didn’t judge me for my decision to leave Memorial Foundation, and you didn’t shun me when I came back even when everyone else at Memorial Foundation did.

“You're a good pilot, a better sniper than you are willing to take credit for.” Luna-Terra fires back, and a solid light bullet passes through the secondary arm of the Hemera Chasma. “You don’t seem to care about your direction in life, and honestly I’ve always been a little sad about that. 

Phaethon fires a burst that misses wide of the zig-zagging Mare Crisium. “And you, having left Memorial Foundation, left Cradle's Graces, and stationed on a stillborn planet, care about your direction?”

“There’s a difference between doing what is best and doing what you want.” 

Phaethon bites her tongue on what she wanted to say in response, and fires another burst after the last one, and this time one bullet hits and slows the Mare Crisium down for a moment.

“Luna-Terra, do you know what it’s like to want something for a long time, to see it just within reach, and yet have it seem unattainable?”

“Believe it or not, I do,” she answers without a hint of humor. Luna-Terra veers out of the way as they almost run into each other, and now they are both moving in an orbit around each other, circling while shooting at the other Ship-Self.

The Hemera Chasma takes a direct hit in its center-of-mass, and Phaethon stops and lowers the rifle. Luna-Terra stops as well. 

“Luna-Terra, do you want to know why I don’t distrust you now like most of Memorial Foundation’s pilots do?” Phaethon takes Luna-Terra’s silence as an assent. “Because we have been friends long enough that I can’t see you doing something because it is easy or just going along with the flow. You had to have left Memorial Foundation because you were committed to that decision, and you were just as committed when you chose to return. As long as you are here, I can’t imagine you being anything but completely loyal to Memorial Foundation and its mission.”

“Maybe,” is all Luna-Terra says in response.

“I enjoy this so much,” Phaethon says as she removes the solid lights slug and begins healing the wound, “because here on the battlefield, just one-on-one, a friendly fight, I get to see a facet of you that you don’t show anywhere else. How many other people have seen this side of you? You can shoot the Hemera Chasma as much as you want, and I will never stop coming back for more. But there’s one way we’ve never fought.”

Phaethon tosses away the Hemera Chasma’s solid light rifle, and draws its knife. She thinks she’s finally ready for what she wants to do next, no matter the consequences.

Luna-Terra sighs. “Do you really want to do this?”

“Yes.”

“You have always been a sniper, fighting from a distance,” Luna-Terra says. “I’ve had these close-in fights before. They’re not always fun. Sometimes the damage stays with you. I’ve seen it happen.”

“I need to do this,” Phaethon replies.

Luna-Terra frowns. “Then let’s do this.” She throws aside the Mare Crisium’s rifle, and takes out the knife.

The Hemera Chasma and the Mare Crisium stand facing each other for a moment, neither pilot saying anything, then, with a yell, Phaethon sends the Hemera Chasma running towards the Mare Crisium, knife held up, ready to slash.

The Mare Crisium moves towards the charging Hemera Chasma, then dodges at the last minute. The slash from the Hemera Chasma goes wide, and with a counter-slash, Luna-Terra leaves a shallow wound in the side of the Ship-Self.

The sensory feedback that Phaethon feels is sharp, a pulsing sensation different from being hit with a solid light bullet. She backs up from the Mare Crisium, weaving back and forth with the knife.

“Luna-Terra, why are you here?”

The Mare Crisium begins side-stepping, circling the Hemera Chasma while always facing it. 

“The same reason you are,” Luna-Terra answers. “Someone thought this was a better place for me than all the others.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“Consider how badly you want the answer,” Luna-Terra says, and charges at the Hemera Chasma. Phaethon is ready though, and dodges the thrust with a side-swing and sticks the knife into the Mare Crisium’s side.

“Right now I want to know more than anything.”

“Why?” Luna-Terra asks, while the Mare Crisium backs off.

“I need your answer in order to tell you why!” Phaethon yells, and the Hemera Chasma charges towards the Mare Crisium.

The Mare Crisium backs up feigning a counter-slash to the knife-thrusts of the Hemera Chasma, then does an upthrust stab. Phaethon blocks it with the open palm off-hand of the Hemera Chasma. This time her hand, her real hand, spasms and clenches as the knife passes through her Ship-Self’s hand and is pulled out again. Phaethon shakes it off and assumes a ready stance.

“I don’t want to hurt a friend,” Luna-Terra says, as the Mare Crisium backs off and watches.

Phaethon chuckles. “You must be joking. This isn’t even real pain I’m feeling.”

“There are many ways to hurt someone, not all of them physical.”

“Stop trying to be some sort of sage and just fight me.”

“What do you really want to ask me?”

Instead of responding, Phaethon lunges towards the Mare Crisium. The two Ship-Selves stab each other multiple times. Phaethon simply endures the feeling, like she always has. The Ship-Selves break off, and they’re once again at a standoff.

“Okay, Luna-Terra, I have a question; how do you cope with betraying everyone at Cradle's Graces?”

“I want to tell you something only one other person knows, can I do that Phaethon?” Luna-Terra asks. “After Earth ordered us to return, after I overloaded the core on the Mare Crisium, I talked to Pluto about returning to Memorial Foundation. She said that I should go if that was what I thought was best. 

“She said that we could cover for each other. If I was wrong she would do what was right, and if she was wrong I would do what was right.

“So you see, I didn't betray everyone, not the person there who matters most to me. And that’s how I cope.” Luna-Terra closes her eyes and sighs.

“Phaethon, what do you think of Cradle's Graces?”

“You’re asking me that now?”

The Mare Crisium remains standing still where it is. Neither Ship-Self moves.

“It’s my turn to ask you a question, so answer it.”

The Hemera Chasma charges. “Honestly, it’s foolishness. To think they can go against Earth’s gravity and win.” The Mare Crisium side-steps at the last moment as the Hemera Chasma lunges, but the Hemera Chasma slashes towards it while backing away and is able to avoid any retaliation.

“What if I told you that Cradle's Graces carries the only truly human dream in space?” The Mare Crisium begins circling around the Hemera Chasma.

“I’d say you were a liar, which I can’t believe, or I’d ask you again, ‘why did you come back to Memorial Foundation?’ My turn.” Phaethon lunges with the knife, but the Mare Crisium dodges and is only scratched. “Why are you so afraid to come after me?”

“Because the truth is that you’re fragile.”

“I’m not fragile, and I’ll prove it,” Phaethon says.

The Hemera Chasma advances on the Mare Crisium, thrusting the knife towards Luna-Terra’s Ship-Self as she goes. Luna-Terra body-checks the Hemera Chasma, and they are both stabbing each other, no attempt to avoid each other’s knife. They finally break apart from each other.

The Hemera Chasma stands in a half-crouch, gravity already pulling back together the holes left by the knife. Both pilots are breathing heavily, and have broken out in a cold sweat.

“Luna-Terra?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you leave Cradle's Graces?”

Phaethon has finally asked the right question. Luna-Terra sighs. “Because the dream hurt more than reality. 

“Phaethon, please just go ahead and ask me what I think you really want to ask me.”

Phaethon takes a deep breath. “Could you love me?”

Luna-Terra knew it was coming but still grimaces. “No,” she almost whispers.

“Why not!?” Phaethon cries out. Her breath quickens, and she feels a swirling mess of emotions rising.

“Because I still love Pluto.”

Phaethon begins crying. “So this was pointless…”

“Phaethon, I can’t love you, but I still care for you as a friend—”

“Could you have loved me if it wasn’t for Pluto?” Phaethon interrupts. 

For a moment Luna-Terra hesitates. “No good will come from answering that question,” she finally says.

“Answer it!” Phaethon cries out.

Luna-Terra sighs. “The answer is no.”

Phaethon goes numb. “Why. Not?!”

“Phaethon, what do you believe in?” Luna-Terra asks sharply.

“That’s not a fair question!”

“That answer is exactly why.”

Phaethon begins to let out a low, keening whine. Her thoughts are jumbled, sadness and anger mixing together, and a steadily growing need to _unhear_ what Luna-Terra said.

“Phaethon, please, let’s stop.”

“No!” she yells. The Hemera Chasma leaps at the Mare Crisium, but Luna-Terra dodges and slashes the Hemera Chasma in the upper-arm, almost severing it.

Phaethon’s Ship-Self grabs its arm with its free hand, and turns back towards the Mare Crisium. Phaethon can’t separate her emotional pain from the physical sensation, and knows the only thing maintaining her interfacing with the Hemera Chasma is her years of experience piloting. 

“Luna-Terra, I’ve carried a torch for you for so long. Did you know?”

“No, not really,” she answers. “Phaethon, it’s time to end this fight.”

The Hemera Chasma’s gravity knits the arm back together enough to continue. Phaethon pulls back her lips in a snarl. “Let’s keep on going, Luna-Terra,” she says. “This Ship-Self could go another dozen rounds.”

“But you can’t.”

“Not true!” The Hemera Chasma makes another lunge, but the Mare Crisium is too fast for Phaethon, and grabs the Hemera Chasma’s wrist to pull it closer so the Mare Crisium can stab Phaethon’s Ship-Self in the back. Filled with regret, Luna-Terra twists the knife.

The sensation from Phaethon’s Ship-Self is novel to her, a sharpness that feels like every muscle in her body contracting at once. it combines with her emotion’s into an all-consuming brightness. All her senses and thoughts fail her for a moment. She is dead. She never lived. She has always lived. All she can know is that she exists. 

Phaethon stops interfacing. The Hemera Chasma drops the knife and goes limp. Phaethon is sobbing now. The only reason her Ship-Self doesn’t fall to the ground is that Luna-Terra’s Ship-Self is holding it up.

“Let go of me!” Phaethon screams as she returns to the universe. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you...” For that moment she really means it 

The Mare Crisium keeps on holding the Hemera Chasma. Phaethon repeats herself, trailing off until finally she is just whispering to herself. Eventually, she stops sobbing, and she no longer hates Luna-Terra.

“I’m sorry, Luna-Terra,” Phaethon says.

“I’m sorry too,” Luna-Terra answers.

*****

Phaethon waits.

She waits in a conference room on Hades, in Cradle’s Graces main base. 

Phaethon’s taken the first steps, and when someone else enters the room she will take the next ones, and then the ones after those, and so on.

It’s Mars who walks into the conference room.

“Hello Mars,” she says. “I’m Phaethon, pilot of the Ship-Self Hemera Chasma.”

“Hello. Yeah, I remember you, from before. Thank you for coming here. I’ll save us some time by asking the most important question first: Why are you defecting to Cradle's Graces?”

Phaethon looks down at her hands on the table, folded together, and closes her eyes. 

“Because the reality hurt more than the dream.”

* * *

_“Your body can’t be killed or destroyed, but it can be changed. When you are hit, truly hit, you’re bent into a different kind of shape, and through that you can change.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta-reader Erica, and thank you for reading.


End file.
